“No, I’m quite sure there was evidence of grass phytoliths.”
“Wow, this is interesting,” Carson said. “Let’s finish this discussion at a Starbucks. I’ll buy the first Vanilla Latte.”
“Well, look at this!” Wynooski said.
Wynooski waved them over to where she stood, leaning toward the hill, her left leg bent, her right extended because of the steep slope.
“What now?” Carson asked.
“Can’t you see?” Wynooski said, tapping a big rock. “It’s concrete.”
Gah and Paulson worked across the slope to look at Wynooski’s find.
“Starbucks. I’m buying. What else do you want?” Carson said, trying to entice the eggheads. “I’ll pay for Venti size.”
“She’s right,” Paulson said.
“Okay, okay, it’s concrete,” Carson said. “Let’s talk about what it means when we’re sipping that espresso.”
“It means I was right,” Wynooski declared. “We are still on the Mills Ranch.”
“No, the vegetation confirms the rough time period,” Paulson said. “This just means that we weren’t the first ones to be transported to this time and place. Or at least not the first thing.”
“It would also explain grasses showing up sporadically in the fossil record ten million years before they should have evolved,” Gah said.
“Perhaps Cenozoic grasses evolved from the modern grasses sent back by the Time Quilt?” Paulson said. “But if so, then when did the modern grass evolve? It creates a time paradox.”
Frustrated, Carson sat on the slope, shaking his head, mumbling, “Biscotti? Anyone want some biscotti?”
“If this is from the original Time Quilt, there should be more than this,” Gah said, slapping the concrete. “If there is concrete, there are people—were people. We should try to identify where this came from. Atlanta? New York?”
“We should try to get the hell out of here!” Carson said.
Then the ground shook, pebbles bouncing out of place. Everyone froze, even Wynooski silent. More vibrations and more loose material slid past them. Locating the direction of the vibrations, they all looked uphill. Over the crest of the hill appeared the head of a carnivore, and it was much bigger than twelve feet long.
“Tyrannosaur?” Gah asked, leaning back so that he could see up the hill, but then tilting his head down to look through the distance portion of his bifocals.
“Probably,” Paulson said.
“Run,” Carson said.
“I was just going to say that,” Wynooski said, turning and running downhill faster than a fat woman should be able.
13
Elizabeth
ELIZABETH HAWTHORNE: I was one of those in the Fox Valley building housing the orgonic pyramid when the three nuclear devices detonated. The black ripples that spread out ahead of the blast wave converged on our building and transported us to the moon and back in time. Later, we escaped from the moon, back to the time before the nuclear bombs went off, and removed one.
SENATOR SCOT WILHITE: If I understand your testimony, you were able to remove one nuclear device, and take it with you into the orgonic collector—pyramid—so that when the other two devices detonated, you, and the others with you, were killed? At least a version of you was?
—Testimony before the Senate Committee on Security Affairs
Present Time
Office of Grayson, Weinert & Goldfarb
Washington, D.C.
“Kaylee Kemper is on your line,” Elizabeth’s assistant said.
Kaylee was Nick Paulson’s administrative assistant at the Office of Strategic Science. Elizabeth sighed with relief, her concern at not hearing from Nick quickly changing to anger. Frequently, Nick traveled, and would be gone like this for days, or even weeks at a time, but he always called if delayed. This time he had been gone three days, and Elizabeth had not heard from him. Her sixth message to his cell was, “Call me or else.”
“Nick better have a good excuse,” Elizabeth said in greeting.
“Ms. Hawthorne, Dr. Paulson has disappeared,” Kaylee said.
Kaylee had never pulled a prank or told a joke in Elizabeth’s experience, and deference and hierarchy were deeply ingrained in the woman. Nick was always “Dr. Paulson,” and Elizabeth was always “Ms. Hawthorne.” Kaylee was telling the truth, and her tone conveyed concern.
“What’s happened?” Elizabeth asked.
Elizabeth was prepared for any answer, because she had been with Nick Paulson through the unimaginable. Before they were married, Nick and Elizabeth had inadvertently been sent through time and space to the moon, and into the Mayan past. Because of her marriage to the director of the OSS, Elizabeth knew more than the average citizen about the distortions in the time–space continuum that had changed the world. She also knew the real reason behind the nuclear explosions in Alaska and California. The public was told it was terrorism, and it was, but what the public was never told was how close the terrorists had come to destroying the world. The ecoterrorists’ plan had been to shred the space–time continuum, intermixing the past and the modern so completely that civilization would be impossible. Highways, phone systems, Internet, sewage, industry, and government would be gone, pieces distributed through the eons, leaving nothing but a few fragments in the present. Essentially, finishing the job that started with the original Time Quilt. Nick and his teams had stopped the terrorists, but had paid a price in doing it. So when Kaylee said that Nick was gone, Elizabeth was prepared for anything and everything.
“Ms. Hawthorne, I am only an administrative assistant—” Kaylee said.
“What happened?” Elizabeth demanded, cutting her off.
As Nick’s administrative assistant, Kaylee made Nick’s travel arrangements, took minutes in meetings, transcribed notes, and filed sensitive documents. Kaylee was also the biggest gossip in the OSS. If she knew anything, she was dying to tell someone, even someone without security clearance.
“He went to Florida to confirm a claim for two Visitors,” Kaylee said. “That’s all I know, and I shouldn’t have even told you that much.”
Elizabeth knew that “Visitors” were untagged dinosaurs. Nick offered a reward, believing that Visitors might be the leading indicator of new holes in space–time. Nick hoped he would never pay the reward.
“Visitors?” Elizabeth probed.
“The Visitors were two velociraptors,” Kaylee said in a conspiratorial tone.
“No,” Elizabeth said, genuinely surprised.
“They were both dead, but Dr. Paulson went to the site where they were killed. Dr. Paulson took a marine escort just to be safe, but somehow when they got to the site, Dr. Paulson, Dr. Gah, one of the rangers, and the man who found the velociraptors just disappeared.”
Elizabeth got a sick feeling when she heard the words “just disappeared.” In a world where dinosaurs lived side by side with human beings and millions of people had suddenly vanished one night, “disappeared” sounded ominous.
“It’s been three days, Ms. Hawthorne. It’s not like Dr. Paulson to not check in. He always checks his e-mail and calls me. I can’t remember him going a day without contacting me, even when he was on vacation.”
Elizabeth knew that was true. She and Nick had gone to Cancún, and Nick had spent half the time on his phone doing e-mail. If Elizabeth had not been doing the same thing, it would have been a sore point.
“Where’s John?” Elizabeth asked.
John Roberts directed Field Investigations for the Office of Security Science. Once, John led an OSS team into the past and ended up getting pursued by juvenile tyrannosaurs through time and space, clear to the moon.
“Mr. Roberts was in Berlin for the Association of Professional Dinosaur Managers meeting. I spoke with his assistant, and he is on his way back now. He’s flying directly to Florida.”
“I’ll call John,” Elizabeth said.
“Ms. Hawthorne…” Kaylee began.
“And I will let you know anything
as soon as I know it,” Elizabeth assured her.
Taking her cell phone, Elizabeth selected the directory and then pushed R. Then she scrolled down to JOHN ROBERTS. When she selected the name, two phone numbers came up. Elizabeth chose his personal cell number.
“Hello, Elizabeth,” John answered.
“What happened to Nick?” Elizabeth asked.
“I don’t know,” John said. “He was following a lead on a couple of Visitors, and now no one knows where he is.”
“I know that much,” Elizabeth said. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing,” John said. “I’m on my way to the last place he was seen. What I’m hearing makes no sense.”
“Doesn’t it?” Elizabeth said.
“Well, it couldn’t be that,” John said.
“Was he investigating a pyramid?”
“It was on a farm,” John said. “There is nothing in the report about a pyramid or any kind of orgonic energy collector.”
“No one just disappears,” Elizabeth said.
“Funny thing for you to say, after what you went through. Let me investigate before you jump to conclusions.”
“What do you know about the person who turned in the Visitors?” Elizabeth asked.
“He worked for one of those businesses helping citizens handle their pet dinosaurs.”
“Does he have terrorist connections?” Elizabeth asked. “Is he an animal rights activist?”
“Nothing like that,” John said. “As far as we can tell, he’s just what he seems. He’s gone too, you know?”
“Yes, I heard.”
“Elizabeth, I’ll be at the farm where Nick disappeared tomorrow morning. I promise to call you if I find anything.”
“Call me if you don’t find anything.”
“I will,” John promised.
14
Family
I’ve seen ’em. That’s what I’m saying. I’ve seen ’em. Dinosaurs popping up all over the damn place. It’s the government, I’m saying. They’re loosing those dinosaurs to scare people, so we’ll beg them to protect us. And how will they protect us? By taking away more of our rights, that’s how.
—Caller to Cat Bellow’s Radio Rebel show
Present Time
Near Hillsdale, Florida
Jeanette pounded the last nail into the box she built to hold the chicks. She had nailed eight 2 x 6 boards into two simple boxes, using scrap to make braces to hold one box on top of the other. Jeanette was proud of the simple structure. The box ended up eight feet by eight feet because that was the size of the boards she found behind the barn.
“Pretty good,” Jeanette declared, putting the hammer back into Carson’s tool belt.
Jeanette had had to cut new holes in the belt to get it to fit around her waist, and that would irritate Carson. Carson jealously guarded his tools, and Jeanette took great pleasure in modifying his tool belt and then using the tools. Wearing an old yellow tank top with tears and paint stains, a pair of old tattered shorts, and the tool belt, Jeanette looked like Daisy Mae of Dogpatch.
Sally got up, coming to sniff the box. Jeanette spread a layer of fresh straw in the bottom, and then began transferring the velociraptor chicks. Most were asleep, huddled in a pile, comforted by each other’s warmth. Picking one chick up in each hand, Jeanette gently lifted them up and down as she moved them, weighing them.
“They’re getting big,” Jeanette said to Sally.
Sally nuzzled one of the chicks. Eyes open, the chick chirped softly, only half awake. Still stuffed from the morning’s Alpo breakfast, the chicks were only half conscious. Putting one down, Jeanette studied the other. The chicks had lost some of their purplish color, their skin now blotchy with gray patches. The chick’s head still seemed disproportionately large to Jeanette, but the body was bigger and the legs longer. Jeanette stroked the chick several times, then drew her hand down the length of the chick’s tail. The chick let out several satisfied pants as she did. Examining the velociraptor’s hands, Jeanette felt the taut skin that stretched over the three fingers. Each finger ended in a small claw that was covered with skin. Jeanette noticed the tip of the claw protruding farther from the skin covering than just yesterday. Looking at the feet, Jeanette found one of the claws much larger than the others, and most of its tip was exposed. Gently putting the chick in the new enclosure, Jeanette finished transferring the remaining chicks.
“Time to name them, Sally,” Jeanette said. “We need seven names. Let’s see. Snow White had seven dwarfs. Happy, Sneezy, Doc, Bashful, Grumpy, Sleepy, and Dopey. Yeah, I think that’s all of the names.” Looking at the sleeping chicks, Jeanette said “I couldn’t name one of them Dopey. That would be cruel. What else has seven names? Santa has eight or nine reindeer. Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Cupid … A velociraptor named Cupid? I don’t think so.”
Kneeling, Jeanette leaned on the edge of the box, watching the velociraptor chicks sleep. Occasionally, each chick would let out a small sigh or soft peep. Jeanette noticed the voices of the chicks were different. Larger chicks had deeper tones than the smaller chicks.
“Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti,” Jeanette sang. “That’s seven names.”
Sally leaned over the edge of the box, Jeanette scratching her head. After hand-feeding the chicks for days, Jeanette knew them intimately.
“You are Do,” Jeanette said. “You are next largest, so you are Re, and you are Mi.”
As she pronounced the names, Jeanette’s pitch changed, just as it did in the scale. “Ti” was said with the highest pitch.
“Sleep tight, Do, Re, Me, Fa, So, La, Ti,” Jeanette said, virtually singing the names.
As she returned to the office, one of Jeanette’s phones rang. It was the Dinosaur Wrangler phone.
“Dinosaur Wrangler, how can we help you?” Jeanette said mechanically.
“This is Maury Dillman calling from the Super Eight in Ocala? I am trying to reach Carson Wills?”
“Aren’t we all,” Jeanette said.
“Excuse me?” Dillman said.
“I’m Mr. Wills’s executive assistant. What do you need from Mr. Wills?” Jeanette asked.
“Well, we have not seen Mr. Wills since he checked in, but he does not seem to be using his room. He has not checked out, and his van has not moved since he parked it.”
“You haven’t seen Mr. Wills at all?”
“Not since he flew away in the helicopter,” Dillman said.
“Helicopter?” Jeanette probed.
“Yes, the marines took him away.”
Jeanette gasped. People were supposed to turn in Visitors, not get arrested for it. And why would the marines be involved?
“Should we continue to keep the room for Mr. Wills?” Dillman asked.
“You’re still charging his card for the room?” Jeanette asked.
“Yes, Mr. Wills has not checked out.”
“It’s a company card,” Jeanette said. “Stop charging today. Mr. Wills is no longer staying there.”
“His luggage is still in the room.”
“I’ll send someone to collect it,” Jeanette said.
“And the van? It can’t be parked here if he is not a guest.”
“The van will be picked up too.”
“If you send someone before noon, we will not charge for today,” Dillman said, sounding magnanimous.
Hanging up on Dillman, Jeanette called Lymon Norris, one of the men who worked for the Dinosaur Wrangler company.
“Lymon, how are you doing with that Monoclonius?”
“Not so good,” Lymon said. “I got it back in the pen, but then it broke out the other side. It’s a wood corral. Can you believe it? These dumb sonsofbitches built a wood corral for a fucking Mono. You think Carson could come on out and lend me a hand?”
“Can’t,” Jeanette said. “He’s still in Ocala. Do the best you can.”
Jeanette called Robby Bryson next.
“Robby, are you free to make a run to Ocala?”
“W
ill be in about an hour or so. Just finishing up on that call about the oviraptor.”
“Was it a raptor?” Jeanette asked.
“Nah. It was an emu. No bull. It came off a farm that leases animals for TV shows, commercials, and shit like that.”
“It’s still five-hundred-dollar minimum,” Jeanette reminded Robby.
Robby had a soft heart and had been known to discount for old women and pretty girls. Jeanette was convinced that if she brushed up against Robby and followed up with a smile, Robby would kill for her.
“I told them,” Robby said. “They’re not happy, but they’ll pay.”
“When you get done, run over to the Super Eight in Ocala. Pick up Carson’s suitcase and the van. There’s a spare key under the back bumper. Get someone to go with you to drive it.”
“My cousin might go with me, but he won’t do it for free,” Robby said.
“Fifty dollars,” Jeanette said.
“Yeah, he’ll go for fifty. Where’s Carson?”
“Into something,” Jeanette said.
“Something big?”
“He better be,” Jeanette said.
“Come again?” Robby said.
“Just bring the van back. Get Carson’s suitcase too, and don’t forget to check Carson out of his room.”
“Seriously, Jeanette, where the hell is Carson?”
“God only knows,” Jeanette said.
Sally jumped up, stiffening, pointing at the door.
“I’ve got to go,” Jeanette said.
A shadow appeared on the screen door, and then came three hard raps. Jeanette stiffened, suspicious. Virtually all the Dinosaur Wrangler business came over the phone. Rarely, an unhappy customer would visit the office, but there had been no recent complaints. With grumpy customers, Carson handled the women and Jeanette the men. Jeanette waited behind the desk, one arm dangling toward a wooden box on the floor. The box held a few files and at the bottom, a revolver.
“Come,” Jeanette said.
A young man stepped in. He wore beige Dockers and a light blue polo shirt and sandals. His hair was black, his nose small, even delicate. It took Jeanette a second to recognize him.
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